


i screw up the things i love, so let me pretend for just a while longer

by placidwriter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Castiel/Dean Winchester Drabble(s), Dean Needs A Hug, Dean Needs to Use Actual Words, Drabble, Explanations, Friendship/Love, Letters, Love Confessions, M/M, No Dialogue, POV First Person, Poetry, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 18:24:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11560824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/placidwriter/pseuds/placidwriter
Summary: It's not that I don't love you; it's that I do.





	i screw up the things i love, so let me pretend for just a while longer

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a series of pictures floating around the internet. A Destiel version of 'it's not that i don't love you'.

It's not that I don't love you.

It's just that, when I was four years old I watched as my dad swore there was nothing more in the world that he loved than my mother. I watched them dance in the kitchen as she sang along to _Easy_ and _B-A-B-Y_. The sound her blonde hair made as it swiped around the room shattered into screams as my house was burned down because of a war I didn't know I belonged in. I watched my father never dance again, the only shuffle his feet made was towards the door with another command to watch my little brother and he'd be back.

It's not that I don't love you.

It's just that, as I grew up I watched my father loose himself in different brands of light beer and freaky women who patted my head as they sat in his lap and called me sticky-boy because I was like a stain on my father's reputation - the father that did all. I was a broken record of my mom's honey hair and freckles. He broke his own heart over and over again in dark-haired static and I can't get the look in his eyes out of my mind.

It's not that I don't love you.

It's just that, when I met my Uncle Bobby, he was already gone in a life of grey. His light died out with the woman he felt heaven for, and he drowned himself in dusty books and a house he couldn't leave. His wife was an angel, he would say, she would dream wild thoughts of bouvardia double and swimming so far, she wouldn't be able to see land any more. When he lost her, he lost himself and it's a different kind of pain seeing a man grow back to who he was and then falling into the despair you recognize him as.

It's not that I don't love you.

It's just that, my little brother was so happy with his girl and she was suddenly the world. Watching him lose sleep and light and suddenly forget that earth is home whether or not he's crashing and burning, it was difficult. He was so young and wild and free and when you ruin something like that by interfering it's suddenly on your conscious. I could see the change in the small things he did, no longer swaying to the music, no more double knotted shoelaces for extra safety. The way he carelessly shot his last bullets with many more enemies, how he only had half thoughts - as if she took the other half of his brain with her ashes.

It's not that I don't love you.

It's just that, the first woman I ever opened my heart to in this real world didn't believe in me. She saw the swirls of darkness clouding over my shoulders and high-tailed it out of my life so fast that I couldn't even blink before her curls were nothing but a memory. I couldn't breathe for months after and I can still never look into brown eyes the same again.

It's not that I don't love you.

It's just that, watching everyone I've ever called mine leave me time after time becomes wearing. I feel the strings of their love tugging at my heart whenever I run into a single mom, a spitfire redhead, a broken-down blonde. Whenever I smell pears and tulips, it's a clogged nose and whenever the tunes of  _Hey Jude_ come on it's like being stabbed a thousand times.

It's not that I don't love you.

It's just that, every time I see a bird I think of the times I cost you your chance to fly away. I remember an order refused, a favor blown-off. I think of every smile towards destruction, every moment down here you risk your life for me. I see blood stained sigils, the smell of drugs on your breath, a false future of me just wanting to make you smile something real.

It's not that I don't love you, it's that I do.

And love screws everything up, so instead lets just forget.


End file.
